


In Which Morwen's Cats Have a Valid Point

by bienenalster (pinkspider)



Category: Enchanted Forest Chronicles - Patricia Wrede
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkspider/pseuds/bienenalster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be more precise, in which Morwen's cats have a valid point regarding the feasibility of eliminating sundry household obstacles through magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Morwen's Cats Have a Valid Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnneElliot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneElliot/gifts).



Morwen felt the simmering anger of nine cats the moment she stepped through the door. She wrinkled her brow in consternation as she headed to the kitchen to stow her basket of herbs. No sense causing disarray.

In the living room sat the cats, waiting for her with Scorn front and center. Clearly, the matter was grave if not life threatening.

"Whatever is the matter, Scorn?" asked Morwen.

"In the last months, we have tolerated many things. The self locking bedroom doors. The mirror's high-pitched voice. The broom that sweeps all alone."

"It swept me into a closet!" Fiddlesticks interjected.

"We did fix the problems with the broom being rather aggressive," Morwen replied even as she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she knew exactly what was going on here.

"But this," Scorn continued with a twitch of her tail. "This is too much to bear." She stared pointedly at the sofa. Morwen followed her gaze. The sofa looked the same as ever: sturdy, comfortable, and piled with a calico pillows. The sofa did not feel the same as ever, however. Morwen could sense a charge from the sofa, a soft thrum like the smooth grind of intricate and masterfully crafted watch gears that was unmistakably the work of Telemain.

"What is wrong with the sofa?"

"Do it, Fiddlesticks," commanded Aunt Ophelia from her perch on the hearth.

"Why me," whined Fiddlesticks, as he obligingly gathered his weight in his hindquarters, wiggled his orange rump, sprang onto the couch -- and bounced off the couch like a rubber ball.

Morwen realized that she had indeed let things get a little out of hand.

\--

Before Morwen and Telemain had married, while he was still recovering from his broken arm, they had launched themselves into the problem of merging their homes with great zeal. Immediately, they concluded that they should connect Telemain’s tower to Morwen's cottage through the magic door: a simple solution that itself created a number of complex problems of logistical design, magical theory, and enchanted praxis. Morwen and Telemain spent hours bent over sketches and calculations and floor plans, listening intently to Cimorene's level-headed suggestions for all the places where the door should and should not connect to the tower. They gratefully allowed Mendanbar to discuss with Willin, at seemingly interminable length, whether this configuration would count as a dual residence, and how it should be listed in censuses or how royal invitations should be issued to the new pair.

By the time Telemain had regained full use of his arm, they had developed a complex but elegant solution and gathered all the necessary material components. With the help of Morwen's cats, the spellwork went off without a hitch, and Morwen and Telemain were ready to begin married life.

The self-whisking whisk was the result of the time that Morwen made 5 batches of gingerbread for the party when Kazul's grandchild came of age and lamented her aching arm. Two days later, Telemain had proudly shown her the whisk.

"Simply place it in the bowl, and give it the command, 'commence, whisk!' Then, when you're done, stop it by saying, 'desist, whisk.' At first, I had some difficulty compelling the whisk to work in all bowls. However, I found a way around that problem by linking the whisk to a range of dimensions rather than a single object.It occurred to me that..." Telemain launched into a 20 minute long description of the mathematical principles behind the spell and the hours he spent measuring and notating the circumference and depth and angles of every bowl in Morwen's kitchen.

Even if Morwen normally did small batch baking and if the whisk whisked perhaps a little too vigorously and flicked batter on the counter (or any passing cats), it was the thought that counted. She thanked Telemain with a kiss and quietly undid the whisk enchantment three weeks later.

\--

The thing about Telemain was that his enthusiasm was infectious. When he set himself to figuring something out, he was going to figure it out, whatever it happened to be. It was easy – and fun – to get swept up in transforming theory into practice. The hours spent debating the most effective parameters for a spell; the treks to visit this remote location or that former colleague in order to obtain rare spell components; the pleasant evenings passed in the triumphant glow of joint discovery.

“That’s all well and good,” commented Cimorene, “but is it really necessary for a magic mirror to have multiple voices you can choose from? And why make some of them obnoxious on purpose?”

“We just wanted to try it. It doesn’t hurt anything, and the mirror still does everything a mirror ought,” said Morwen with a shrug.

Cimorene seemed unconvinced. Morwen couldn’t blame her.

\--

The spell to lock and soundproof the bedroom door automatically was unabated genius.

That was simply fact.

\--

Morwen knelt on the floor in front of the sofa, inspecting it carefully.

The spell on the sofa was not up to Telemain’s usually exacting standards. Not taking into account that cat hairs were attached to cats just as often as anything else was a rather basic oversight.

“Did you know he was doing this?” demanded Scorn.

“No.” Cat repelling side effects aside, the underlying spell was sound in principle, so Morwen had to presume that the sofa was a work in progress. She was rather interested to see how Telemain would have overcome the anti-cat issue. It was a pity she needed to undo his work.

Telemain entered the room just as Morwen was settling into an inspection of the calico pillows.

“I can explain,” he said, wilting under the baleful gaze of the cats as they whipped their heads around to stare at him in perfect unison. “It’s not done yet, and I-“

“Please pardon us,” Morwen cut in. Scorn narrowed her eyes, and Morwen simply cast her a stern look. The cats filed out of the living room, Scorn flicking her tail disdainfully at Telemain on her way out.

\--

They agreed to leave the locking and soundproofing spell on the door, though. After all, what’s marriage without a little magic?


End file.
